A Prologue to Life

Up to the time you infer you are not alone,
all walks are unamusing.
The solitary fruit seller at the murkily lit corner
of the street with numbered
oranges and melons in frayed wicker baskets,
the entire running up to
a few hundred rupees is not alone.
And,
The woman with glooming shadows round
her eyes trading simple toys
in the market corner, day and day is not alone.
And,
The boy in soiled clothes selling peanut parcels
is again not alone in the herd.

You go on musing how their bloodlines guide.

I was born sage with my fathers guilt, carrying
those as shadows ahead and behind,
the dead ones come after
and the yet to be borns lead,
I move into a distant forest and
march out unharmed and
I infer that I am not alone,
I bunch them before and after
as if on a parade of evolution
and I feed them with illusions and air.

Up to the time you infer you are not alone,
all walks are unamusing.
From that time on,
it turns a long march of uninterrupted bloodline.

~ Mini Babu

Kollam, India